


The Fool's Errand

by AlphaWailingWolf



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Gotham City Sirens (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Harley gets a taste of her own medicine, Mostly Harlivy, Multi, Psychological Thriller, Role Reversal, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaWailingWolf/pseuds/AlphaWailingWolf
Summary: When The Joker took an interest in young Pamela Isley just after her transformation at Woodrue’s hands, it seemed she was destined to be under his thrall forever. Dr. Harleen F. Quinzel is just another overly eager psychiatrist with the misguided notion that they stand a chance against Pamela’s complex psyche. In Arkham Asylum, nothing ever changes. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

~~~~

Dr. Harleen F. Quinzel stared resolutely at the weathered lettering inscribed above the cold iron gates. She attempted to steel herself against the horrors that were likely awaiting her inside, but couldn’t suppress the excitement fluttering in her stomach. She couldn’t deny it- there was an element of glamour to the extreme personalities imprisoned within.

Dr. Quinzel recalled her uneventful sit-ins on patient sessions with the general public back in medical school. Twenty minutes into their sessions, she’d already pinpointed their diagnoses and formulated several approaches to treatment. She was always right, and she always tired of it quickly. The mind of a typical law-abiding citizen was like a nearly completed puzzle. Only a piece or two was missing.

Those sessions were hardly a worthwhile use of her time. Dr. Quinzel craved a challenge, and where better to seek it than at Arkham Asylum, home to criminal masterminds capable of outsmarting The Batman? She couldn’t wait to play mental chess with such worthy opponents.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when she beat them at their own game.

Dr. Quinzel took a deep breath, and pushed the gates open with all the confidence and gusto she could muster. The worn metal creaked in protest as it gave way to the strength generated by her athletic frame. She puffed her chest out, and swaggered up the path, ignoring the dread creeping through her extremities with each step.

XX

Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley leaned against the tiny window at the back of her cell, head resting on her folded arms, staring sadly at the decaying foliage decorating the dismal path to the asylum’s entrance. The morning sun peeked shyly over the horizon, and Dr. Isley eagerly lifted her face to the few weak rays that filtered through the steel-framed, plexiglass window. A sudden glint of sun-on-briefcase drew her attention back to the courtyard, and she squinted to see the foolish human who had dared disturb her during breakfast.   

Her gaze was met with long blond hair tied into a neat bun, large irises of a brilliant blue which were further magnified by rotund glasses, and an alarmingly wide smile. Dr. Isley shook her head, and smirked morbidly.

It was that time of the week again. A fresh meatbag was here to be fed to the ravenous animals that waited inside the asylum. Dr. Isley doubted the girl would last very long. The question wasn’t _if_ or _when_ she’d be consumed. The question was: _by whom_?

Dr. Isley sighed, tore her eyes away from the chipper affect and arrogant stride of the pretty young doctor, and returned to her meager meal. Everything came to Arkham to die, including the spirits of countless newly minted psychiatrists, coasting on the high of their “success” in higher education. Those credentials may as well have been cow manure, for all the good they’d do in here. Actually, cow manure would be much more useful. It, at least, could be flung in the faces of the detestable cretins to her left and right. Dr. Isley pressed her palm morosely to the glass. As much as she tried to ignore them, the forlorn cries emanating from the browning foliage were unmistakable. The manure would have served them well.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t have done much for the lamb below, marching giddily to her slaughter.

XX

Dr. Quinzel studied the older doctor’s face, which was tightening automatically as they approached what she’d called the “Super Max” wing. Her superior passed calmly through the full body scanner, visibly setting her jaw for the journey ahead. It was reminiscent of full body scanners at the airport, if said scanners happened to be on steroids. Dr. Quinzel’s stomach twisted as she entered the dim hall. She glanced back, and noticed a plain white door, standing out in stark contrast to the dull stone wall. Above it was a large sign, which contained only two words:

DECONTAMINATION CHAMBER

Dr. Quinzel’s mind raced, imaging all the possible reasons one of those could be included as part of the asylum’s _charming_ decor. She was snapped out of her reverie by a voice to her right. Dr. Quinzel looked down. Her legs appeared to be moving of their own accord.

“Dr. Quinzel, with your marks, you could have gone anywhere. Why did you come to Arkham Asylum?”

“I’ve always been fascinated by extreme personalities. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to study them in person.”

“That’s not what I meant. _Why_ are you here? If you’re just here to write a tell-all book, you may as well leave. These people can sense a scam coming a mile away. I’m serious, Dr. Quinzel. They’ll eat you alive.” 

_Writing a tell-all book? Not a bad idea for a get-rich-quick scheme. Clearly not a smart one, though._

“I assure you, Dr. Leland, I’m only here to help. Still, you can’t deny there’s an element of glamour to these super criminals.”

Dr. Leland grimaced, shook her head, and pressed onward. She couldn’t fathom the reckless enthusiasm of these new doctors. They all learned soon enough.

It was that time of the week again. She’d toss the baby bird from the nest, and hope it was strong enough to fly.

Dr. Leland put a finger to her lips as they approached the first row of glass-fronted cells. Most of the patients were still asleep, but a man in the third cell to the left was busying himself by licking and slobbering all over the glass, failing to acknowledge the two doctors. They passed silently through the passageway, until a sign the color of a yellow highlighter, with dark, bold red letters loomed up ahead.

 **WARNING**

THIS SECTOR CONTAINS HIGH PROFILE OFFENDERS AND META-HUMANS. DO NOT APPROACH INMATES, UNLESS INSTRUCTED. ALERT STAFF IMMEDIATELY IF YOU WITNESS SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY.

Dr. Leland sighed, and rubbed her forehead. She glanced around the passageway warily, then turned to Dr. Quinzel.

“Well, I suppose I should introduce you to a few members of the unhappy family. Are you sure you’re ready for this, Dr. Quinzel?”

Dr. Quinzel nodded eagerly, failing to fight the butterflies in her stomach and sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Suddenly, she heard a boisterous, jubilant voice to her left, at the end of the hall. Dr. Quinzel felt like she was about to explode with nervous energy, but kept her face and posture neutral nonetheless.

Dr. Quinzel trailed closely behind Dr. Leland as they walked up to the cell in question. When she saw who was inside, the floor dropped out from under her, and her throat went dry.

His cold, malevolent eyes glittered wildly under the single lightbulb that served as the sole decoration in his cell. His mouth broke into a wide, deranged grin, his yellow teeth contrasting garishly with his unnaturally whitened skin. His shock of green hair was noticeably unkempt, and he regarded the cute blonde before him with the eerie stillness of a snake waiting to strike.

Dr. Quinzel didn’t see any of that. Before her, there stood a moderately handsome man with an amused smile on his face.

“So nice of you to drop by, Joanie! Oooh, and you remembered to bring an appetizer to our party! Who might this tasty little treat be?”

Joker leered unabashedly at Dr. Quinzel. 

Dr. Quinzel replied before Dr. Leland could open her mouth.

“Mr. Joker, I presume? I’m Dr. Harleen Quinzel, and I may very well be your doctor, one day. It would behoove you to treat me with the proper respect.”

Joker smiled wanly in response.

“Harleen Quinzel? Reconfigure that a little, and you get Harley Quinn! Now, that’s a name that puts a _smile_ on my face.”

Joker’s resultant smile stretched his face.

Dr. Quinzel found it endearing, but grimaced all the same.

“Yes, I know, like harlequin, the pantomime performer. I’ve heard it before.”

Joker nodded appreciatively.

“I suspect I’ll be seeing a lot more of you, toots.”

Dr. Quinzel raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps.”

Dr. Quinzel was about to turn away and continue down the hallway, when she felt someone’s eyes boring through the back of her skull. She opted for a 180, instead.

If the floor had dropped out from under her when she first saw Joker, then the entire roof came crashing down on top of her now.

Carnivorous, verdant irises pinned her to the spot. For a moment, Dr. Quinzel felt like a fish out of water. Their electric luminosity threatened to reel her in, to envelop her, to swallow her whole. Not one to be easily deterred, Dr. Quinzel journeyed onward, and braved those treacherous depths. There was something behind that cold, predatory stare that she just had to see.

There it was. It was unmistakable. A spark of excitement, a surge of anticipation. Qualities mirrored in Dr. Quinzel’s baby blues, when an unexpected challenge presented itself.

Needless to say, the woman’s eyes were an entity on their own. The rest of her was just as unique and exquisite.

Her long, fiery hair blazed in the soft morning light, cascading effortlessly around her shoulders. Her skin was the light green of a spring sapling. She was curvaceous in all the right places. Her features were perfectly symmetrical, even with pure rage roiling through them.

In her hands was a cute little pot, with a solitary, small yellow flower. The woman was gripping it so tight, little cracks were starting to form in the ceramic.

_Jessica Rabbit of the Jungle._

Dr. Quinzel cleared her throat, and shifted her attention briefly to the wall adjacent to the mysterious green woman’s cell, where a giant, triangular sign was plastered. It included both a biohazard symbol, and a skull and crossbones outlined by a red diamond.

BIOCHEMICAL HAZARD

Biosafety required before decontamination: LEVEL 4

Acute Oral Toxicity: CAT 1

Acute Dermal Toxicity: CAT 1

Acute Inhalation Toxicity: CAT 1

Biosafety required after decontamination: LEVEL 2

Acute Oral Toxicity: CAT 2

Acute Dermal Toxicity: CAT 3

Acute Inhalation Toxicity: CAT 4

WARNING

Fast acting, lethal toxins present in skin and bodily fluids. Toxins may also be projected in aerosol form. Do not approach inmate outside this containment cell without first completing mandatory safety training. Proceed with extreme caution at all times. Prolonged exposure to inmate may be fatal.

ANYONE THAT INTERACTS WITH THIS INMATE WITHOUT FOLLOWING PROPER PROTOCOL MUST REPORT TO THE BSL-4 DECONTAMINATION CHAMBER IMMEDIATELY.

 _So_ , thought Dr. Quinzel, _that’s why this mental health institution requires a decontamination chamber._

Dr. Quinzel could only conclude that this woman was an absolute knockout. In every sense of the word.  

The toxic green woman analyzed Dr. Quinzel’s reaction in dangerous silence as the blonde read the warning. When the woman finally spoke, her voice was full of venom.

“As you can see, it was _incredibly_ unwise of you to flirt with my boyfriend, trollop. Do you have a death wish?”

_Trollop? What is this, the 1940’s?_

Without missing a beat, Dr. Quinzel hardened her mouth into a thin line, doing her best to look stern.

“You look like a nice young woman. Is that any way to introduce yourself?”

Joker broke out in peals of laughter behind Dr. Quinzel.

“Oh, my harlequin, you couldn’t be more wrong! Why, my lovely Pammy’s only a little younger than yours truly! What’s more, she’s far naughtier than she is nice…if you know what I mean.”

Joker winked when Dr. Quinzel glanced over at him.

Dr. Quinzel expected an outburst from “Pammy” at the insult, but none came. Instead, it was Dr. Leland that spoke next.

“And how old _are_ you exactly, Mr. Joker?”

 “Aw, Joanie, weren’t you listening? Isn’t that your job? I SAID Pammy’s older than _I_ am!”

Dr. Leland narrowed her eyes.

“No, you said she was younger, but not by much.”

Joker smiled, and made a show of adopting a shocked expression.

“Really? So, you _were_ listening! Oopsie, Joanie! I can never quite seem to remember! Point is, Jill-in-the-Pulpit over there is a certifiable cougar! Ha!”

Dr. Quinzel quirked an eybrow.

_Cougar?_

“Why Jill-in-the-Pulpit?”

A wide grin broke out on Joker’s sharp visage, making his affect that much creepier. Dr. Quinzel didn’t notice. All she saw was his glee.

“Isn’t it obvious? As obvious as your name and your smile, my harlequin! I’m Jack-in-the-Box—

He pointed to his grin, and jumped.

\--So, she’s Jill-in-the-Pulpit!”

Joker opened his arms invitingly, and Dr. Quinzel couldn’t stop the right side of her mouth from ticking upward. Joker noticed, and if possible, his conciliatory grin widened even more. Dr. Quinzel quickly corrected, changing her expression into what she hoped was an impassive scowl. She raised her clipboard, and pretended to take a judgmental note.  

“Again, my name is Dr. Quinzel, Mr. Joker. You’ll refer to me as such.”

Joker shrugged, picked up a deck of cards, and leaned against the wall. He shuffled them noisily, his eyes now trained on the green woman across from him.  

Dr. Quinzel turned slowly, expecting to be met with a red-and-green ball of fury. She couldn’t hide her surprise when she realized the green woman’s features had transitioned from livid to placid. A low chuckle escaped from her perfect lips.

_Perfect lips? What the hell, Quinzel. She’s a patient. Don’t give her any power._

“Good one, Sunshine. You always manage to brighten my day with such delightful jokes.”

Joker stopped shuffling his cards, smirked, and winked at her.

“Anything for you, poo. There’s plenty more fertilizer where that came from!”

Dr. Leland crossed her arms. Gross. At this point, she could write an entire novel full of nothing but bad gardening puns.

“Yep, that about sums it up. Dr. Quinzel, this is Pamela Isley. She’s also known as “Jester” and “Poison Ivy”, but we refrain from reinforcing those identities. She’s an…accomplice…to most of Joker’s crimes, as well as a prolific criminal in her own right. She’s a meta-human, and her physiology is vastly different from that of a typical human. Pamela here is essentially a transgenic hybrid- part plant, and part human, specifically. It’s too complex to delve into now. You can read Batman’s extensive report on her physiology in her case file.”

Dr. Quinzel looked confusedly from Pamela’s loving smile to Joker’s smug posture. Pamela seemed to be too busy making goo goo eyes at Joker to register the fact that Dr. Leland was talking about her as though she wasn’t there. On second thought, maybe she _wasn’t_ there.

This was the quandary Dr. Quinzel had been searching for. Truth be told, she had initially come to Arkham Asylum with the intent to tackle Joker’s apparently “incurable” case. Now, all she could think about was the glimmer of enthusiasm hidden deep within those poisonous green eyes.

Pamela was the Gordian knot of mental illness, and Dr. Quinzel couldn’t wait to make her unravel.

_Not like that._

Dr. Quinzel felt a tractor beam on her face again, and glanced up. She’d been so deep in thought, she hadn’t realized she’d been staring at the floor. Her first instinct was to turn to Joker, but she could feel the acid intensity burning a hole in her right cheek. Coming to a decision, she turned abruptly, marched up to the glass, and met the vibrant eyes that were now mere inches from her own.

Dr. Quinzel had expected the redhead to take a step back. She should have known better. Pamela merely raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Do you need something, Pamela? I’d be happy to call an orderly.”

Ivy lidded her eyes seductively.

“What do _you_ need, Harleen? I’d be happy to—

“That’s enough, Ms. Isley.”

Dr. Quinzel felt heat emanating from her cheeks, against her best efforts. She watched as Pamela contradictorily smiled in triumph and narrowed her eyes in anger, never breaking from their staring match.

“It’s doctor. Dr. Isley. I have a PhD in botany and biochemistry; a fact I’m _sure_ you must be aware of by now, Joan.”    

Dr. Leland just sighed and shook her head, looking thoroughly bored with the exchange.

“Pamela, Dr. Quinzel here will be your new doctor. She’ll decide whether or not you’ll get to enjoy outside rec time, and whether or not you’ll be allowed to continue to have plants in your cell. You’re a smart woman, Pamela. Do you really think your behavior will help your case?”

Dr. Quinzel’s eyes widened in surprise. Had this been Dr. Leland’s plan all along? Thankfully, Pamela wasn’t paying attention, as that was the moment she finally swiveled to address Dr. Leland. She clutched the pot in her hands protectively to her chest. Her face contorted into a sneer. She was positively boiling over with rage.

Then, it was as though a switch had been flipped. She adopted a sickly sweet smile, turned to the back wall of her cell, and sauntered toward her tiny window, making sure Dr. Quinzel was watching. As much as she wanted to, as much as she knew she should, Dr. Quinzel just couldn’t tear herself away from the exaggerated display.

Ivy settled herself on the bed, arranged herself in a pin-up model pose, and regarded Dr. Leland coldly before directing her attention again to Dr. Quinzel. She calmly stroked the delicate petals of the small flower in her pot.

“Very well. Seems you owe Joan a favor, Daffodil. Walking away after entertaining me is a _privilege_. Most humans don’t.”

_Daffodil? A condescending nickname. Pamela, be more predictable, won’t you?_

Dr. Quinzel did her best not to shrink _too_ much under Pamela’s searing gaze. Instead of trying to intimidate as before, she seemed to be sizing up the young doctor, formulating a strategy, a plan of attack.  

It was clear she thought she had the upper hand. Now was the time to knock her off balance.

“You know, Pamela, I doubt it’s ever worth it.”

Ivy propped herself up on her elbow, and tilted her head so her hair fell over her shoulder. Dr. Quinzel suppressed a shudder.

“Oh, it’s _always_ worth it, Daffodil. You aren’t _curious_ , are you?” Ivy gave her a knowing wink.

“Absolutely not. Want to know why?”

“Do tell.”

“You’re all flash and no substance, Pamela. I’ve known you for ten minutes, and it’s so obvious, it’s impossible _not_ to notice. Besides, I’ve got it on good authority that you’re a disappointing lay.”

Ivy’s self-assured smirk faded into a frown, and her eyebrows knitted together. It was the first genuine expression Dr. Quinzel had received throughout this entire exchange. Pamela glared accusatorily at “Sunshine”, who was nearly in tears from attempting to hold in his laughter.

“Don’t look at _me_ , rose bud. That’s a woman who knows what she wants, and apparently, it ain’t you!”

By the time Ivy opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort to Dr. Quinzel, the two visiting doctors were already halfway to the exit.

Dr. Quinzel stalked away, head held high, as howls of laughter echoed around the passage. She beamed, a spring in her step.

Dr. Leland looked at Dr. Quinzel out of the corner of her eye, rather impressed that the bubbly greenhorn managed to put the domineering meta-human in her place.

She just might survive her first day.

XX

Ivy ground her teeth together, cradling her daffodil, fuming as she heard the door to the exit click behind the doctors. The lamb had quite a nasty kick.

None of this would matter in a few weeks’ time. She and her Sunshine had found their ticket out of here. She’d planted the seeds, and they were already germinating. She’d tend them dutifully, and reap the benefits come fall.

It will be a bountiful harvest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ivy will seem OOC at some points due to altered events. She's essentially still the same vengeful plant we all know and love.  
> Character depiction is based primarily upon their New Earth interpretations.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Quinzel discovers how Pamela met the Joker.

_First impressions: Shallow affect. Guarded. Exaggerated expressions. Temperamental. Sudden, severe mood shifts. Dependency on Joker._

Dr. Quinzel re-read the quick notes she’d jotted down after her first interaction with Pamela, and reviewed the questions she’d laid out to direct the session. Any minute now, it would begin. As if on cue, a gruff male voice sounded from outside the door.

“Dr. Quinzel, are ya ready for her?”

“Yes. Bring her in.”

The double doors swung open, and Pamela was practically being carried by two large orderlies, who were dressed in what looked to be SWAT gear. They placed her roughly on the worn couch in the middle of the room, and affixed metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. A third orderly ducked into the white, sterile room, and pressed a red button on the wall. As if by magic, her wrists and ankles glued themselves together, and attached themselves to the nearest spaces on the couch. Used to the magnetic trap, Pamela had adjusted herself in a preferred seductive position before the power had been turned on.

Barely a second after the doors had slammed shut behind the orderlies, Dr. Quinzel launched into their session.

“Good afternoon, Pamela. Tell me, how is your relationship with your plants coming along?”  

Ivy raised an eyebrow, and gave Dr. Quinzel a sly smile.

“Daffodil, if you want me to answer a question, you have to answer one of mine first. It’s only fair, don’t you think?

Dr. Quinzel tapped her pen against her chin for a minute as Ivy watched, pretending to consider her options.

“Alright. Shoot.”

“Why bother with me? If I recall correctly, you think I’m nothing more than a pretty face. Honestly, you’re no better than the men in this Gaia forsaken place.”

Dr. Quinzel’s pen scratched purposefully across her notepad. She didn’t glance at the page, instead keeping her attention focused on Pamela. The green woman took notice, and smirked.

  * _Possible Misandry. Holds a grudge._



“Well, this is your chance to prove me wrong.”

“Oh? So, now that we’re behind closed doors, you’re interested?”

“Not quite. Pamela, it’s my job to determine whether or not you’re simply acting on instinct. If you refuse to give me evidence to the contrary, I’ll be forced to conclude you’re similar to inmates like Killer Croc and Clayface.”

At that insinuation, Dr. Quinzel could see Pamela bristle, visibly struggling to control her temper. She narrowed her eyes, and measured her tone carefully

“You think…you think…I’m as utterly _brainless_ as those _complete_ _fools_?”

“You’re given me no reason to believe otherwise.”

Ivy gritted her teeth.

“ _Harleen_ , it’s not my fault you’re too lazy to read my _numerous, groundbreaking_ , _widely-cited_ studies in highly reputable scientific journals. They’re not hard to find. Regardless, I doubt you’d be able to understand the complexity behind them.”

  * _Fragile ego. Quick to anger. Blames others for perceived shortcomings. Self-esteem tied to intellect._



“I’ve answered your question, Pamela. To reiterate: How is your relationship with your plants coming along?”

Ivy scowled.

Dr. Quinzel raised her eyebrows. Pamela had taken Dr. Quinzel’s statement to mean she couldn’t remember what she’d been asked before.

  * _Quick to assume she’s being insulted._



Suddenly, Ivy smiled fondly.

“Mmm, well, they certainly wish they could get more sun. I do the best I can to provide for my babies. I wish I could do more, but I can’t while I’m trapped here with these rotten _meatsacks_. They know that. They don’t hold it against me. I care for them, and they care for me. You see, Daffodil, plants are far simpler than humans in the way they relate to one another. There may be disagreement, at times, but there’s never conflict.”

  *   _Empathetic towards plant life. Perception of plants as children. Reproductive issues?_
  * _Auditory hallucinations._



Dr. Quinzel was already wishing she’d had the opportunity to read Pamela’s case file beforehand. Pamela seemed so sure, and so genuine. Transparency was far out of the norm for her. Either she was highly delusional, or…was it possible?

  * _Auditory hallucinations: check physiological report for confirmation of assessment_



“I see. Tell me about your aliases. What do they mean to you?”

Ivy lidded her eyes seductively.

“Sure. But first, tell me about your first love. What did they mean to you?”

Dr. Quinzel frowned. She hadn’t intended the first session to get personal. Still, Pamela may be more forthcoming if she were to believe she’d been given valuable information.

_“Hey, doc, wait! That’s a dumb idea. Ya can’t tell ‘er that! We’re gonna get in big trouble!”_

Oh no. No. No. No. Not now. Why now?

Dr. Quinzel squeezed her eyes shut. She knew Pamela would notice, but she had no choice.

_“Harley, it was never my intention to tell her. You know that. Please go. Don’t screw this up for me.”_

_“Sheesh, what’s with the attitude, doc? Is this the thanks I get fer tryin’ ta save yer sorry butt? A’right, I see you’re not in the mood. Talk to ya later!”_

“Daffodil, are you okay? If I’m too much for you to handle, I’m positive Joan could make other arrangements—

Dr. Quinzel’s eyes shot open. She did her best to hide her embarrassment at the interruption.

“I’m fine, Pamela. My first love was a man named Guy Kopski. We met in graduate school. He showed me plans for a drink he was inventing that would affect certain neurotransmitters, in an effort to boost productivity. He was handsome, funny, and smart, and I fell for him almost immediately. Unfortunately, after a while, he started to become unstable. It only got worse as time went on. I watched helplessly as he descended deeper and deeper into madness.”

Dr. Quinzel’s eyes clouded over as she remembered that fateful day. The day she’d grown to understand Joker. Her whole life, she’d been pursuing control and order. How wrong she’d been.

Chaos. Chaos unrestrained. Such is the state of reality. It is fruitless to pretend otherwise.

“I was in the other room when I heard the gunshot go off. That was how it ended.”

When the room refocused, Dr. Quinzel was surprised to see a hint of concern on the other woman’s face.

“Your turn, Pamela. That was the deal.”

Ivy sighed irritably.

“Oh, very well. My name is Poison Ivy because ivies were the plants I had the greatest connection with growing up. I tended them every day in my mother’s garden.  The garden was my only ally in Seattle. And, obviously, I’m toxic. I only use that name when I enact Mother Nature’s righteous revenge against those who _dare_ desecrate the very Earth that gives them life. I _am_ her right hand, after all. My Sunshine doesn’t want to be associated with it. I’ve never understood his reluctance, but I don’t question it. Above all else, I’m his Jester. My Sunshine loves that name. It’s the one I prefer, honestly, but I know better than to think any of you stiffs respect me enough to let me choose my own name.”

  * _Possible familial troubles. Sense of identity tied to Joker. Sunshine= Joker. Contradictory self-concept._



Dr. Quinzel figured Poison Ivy made sense. But Jester?

“You don’t look much like a clown, Pamela.”

To Dr. Quinzel’s surprise, a dark green blush crept into her cheeks.

“Well, I must admit that Sunshine was the primary inspiration for that particular moniker. However, “Jester” is also a nickname for a variant of several species of plants. Mine refers to those from the genus _Phorium_. I believe the name is…apt, to say the least.”

“Tell me how you met Joker. I told you how I met my first boyfriend. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

Suddenly, Pamela’s whole face lit up, and she offered a cartoonish grin. The question for question rule she’d established fell away with the rest of the world. Her speech was pressured, erratic, as she recounted the day she’d met her _Sunshine._

_Dr. Isley awoke on the hard mattress of the hospital bed, trembling, aching, hoping hopelessly for a relief that would never come. That syringe, those rough hands, those leather straps, that table. Awake, asleep, somewhere in between. It didn’t make a difference. Those sights, those sensations, those sounds, repeated over and over in her head._

_The morning sun filtered weakly through a dirty, cracked window on the other side of the cavernous infirmary. Dr. Isley stretched a pale green hand toward it, unable to reach its warmth from her designated dark corner. She shut her eyes, condemned to another day of agony. Another day of loneliness. Her one visitor, her one friend, was a small yellow flower in a pot by her bedside. A nurse had taken pity on her. She didn’t want her pity, she didn’t deserve her pity, but she couldn’t abandon the flower. Each morning, she could swear the flower swayed in her direction the moment she opened her eyes._

_Most days, she couldn’t understand why she continued to live. Some days, she knew it was for that little daffodil. All those little daffodils, crushed under the heel of man. Men like Jason…_

_Dr. Isley shuddered as a fresh wave of revulsion washed over her. As silent tears rained softly down her cheeks, she pressed her head into her pillow. Maybe, if she were lucky, she’d fall back asleep and suffocate._

_A booming voice echoed throughout the room. The tortured PhD focused on the voice, still unable to shake the hollow feeling of the highest betrayal._

_“Punch! You idiot, why on Earth would you leave the Harlequin Diamond behind? Did you forget why we came to Seattle in the first place?!?!”_

_“Sorry, boss, they were shootin’ at me! I barely got away!”_

_“Medical bills are no laughing matter, Punch. Guess who’s gonna be stuck with them?”_

_“Uh…you?”_

_“WRONG! This fine institution! Honestly, your incompetence is stealing valuable resources from people like this woman…over…here…”_

_Dr. Isley shook uncontrollably as she heard heavy footsteps approach her bed. Was this the end? Please let this be the end. Please let this be the end. Please let this be…_

_“Good morning, beautiful. You look chilly. Why are you hiding your face?”_

_Dr. Isley didn’t move. She wasn’t sure she could. She stuttered out a response._

_“B-b-beautiful?”_

_It was barely a whisper. She hated the sound of her weak, sickly voice._

_“That’s right. You’re quite comely. Has no one ever told you that?”_

_“B-but…green…”_

_“Rose bud, have you seen ME? I’m white. Very white. I don’t mean Caucasian. I don’t even mean Albino. Look, see for yourself!”_

_Dr. Isley felt a firm hand cup her jaw, and turn her face upward. She flinched, but decided it wasn’t worth the energy to try and remove it. Not that she could, anyway._

_“Don’t touch…p-poison..”_

_She didn’t know why she’d bothered. Her warning didn’t matter. He was a dead man walking. There was nothing to be done._

_“Nonsense, sugar! I’m immune to everything, including you! Now, why don’t you take a look at me? I promise you’ll feel better afterwards. Hee-hee!”_

_Impossible. Nothing could help her. Nothing could help him. There was nothing to be done._

_She opened her eyes a crack anyway._

_His hand left her chin._

_There he stood before her, dressed in a dashing purple suit and fedora. He wore a jubilant, but decidedly off-putting grin beneath his crooked nose and manic green eyes._

_He wasn’t lying. He was white. Whiter than her lab coat. Whiter than a sheet. Whiter than a ghost…_

_Was she being taken to some afterlife?_

_Any hell would be an improvement over this._

_“See? Feel better? Besides, it’s not so bad being green. Take it from someone who knows…”_

_He removed his fedora, and ruffled his shock of green hair._

_She smiled._

_His grew wider._

_“Ah, now that’s what I like to see! Come, poo, I know what’ll raise your spirits!”_

_Dr. Isley was tired. She shouldn’t have smiled. She shouldn’t have spoken. She shouldn’t have moved. Those were luxuries she could no longer afford. She’d be paying dearly for them later. She closed her eyes in defeat._

_Something felt strange. After a moment, she realized her bed was on the move. She didn’t have the strength to protest._

_She heard him tsk as she was wheeled towards their destination._

_“These quacks…maybe I should be THANKING Punch for bankrupting this place…”_

_Suddenly, her body was aflame. The white-hot glare pummeled her eyelids. She was burning up on impact. This was it. Finally…_

_She stopped shaking. She felt strength returning to her limbs. Horrific thoughts faded into the background. She could think clearly for the first time in months._

_She opened her eyes in shock. Her skin was greener than ever before, but she didn’t care. She moved a hand to her forehead…she moved a hand to her forehead!_

_Sunshine._

_She took a deep breath. It didn’t hurt._

_She wanted to live._

Dr. Quinzel blinked as Pamela finished her story. This was easy. _Too_ easy.

  * _Dependency and identity generated from trauma and encouraged by outside party (Joker). Human experimentation. Sexual abuse?_



“I see. Thank you for opening up to me, Pamela. It’s clear to me now that you’re far more than your appearance. I hope that’s clear to you, too.”

Pamela narrowed her eyes.

“Of course it is. Weren’t you listening?”

“I was. I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today.”

A massive orderly ducked through the door, armored in protective gear, complete with face shield. He was well-muscled, and looked to be seven feet tall. He punched the button on the wall, and Pamela’s arms and legs came free.

Dr. Quinzel figured Pamela must be a lot stronger than she looked. She _really_ needed to check Batman’s ( _Batman’s!)_ report.

“Let’s go, Isley. Time ta hose ya down.”

Dr. Quinzel wore a puzzled expression. She needed the sun, so it followed…

“Does Pamela need to be watered?”

Ivy glanced back at her, and chuckled.

“I could sure go for it. It’s not necessary to keep me alive, so they don’t allow it. In case you haven’t noticed, Daffodil, they refuse to make this a _pleasurable_ experience for me. They’re afraid of my…effervescent personality, so I am _required_ to go through decontamination every day. I’d be _very grateful_ if _you_ would give me a shower. Join me in the chamber some time, won’t you?”

Ivy gave Dr. Quinzel a dirty wink.

Dr. Quinzel grimaced, though she failed to halt the color in her cheeks.

The burly orderly had a childish smile on his face.

“Decontamination? That’s not what I meant, flower girl. Don’t think I didn’t notice. You’ve been making kissy faces at the Doc.”

Ivy’s hair flung to the side as her head snapped back around to the orderly. She _literally_ growled at him.

“I suppose you want us to get on the couch and make out for your enjoyment? Typical male swine. I swear to Gaia, Jenkins. One of these days, your _ass_ is _grass._ ”

Dr. Quinzel almost laughed. Pamela was such a hypocrite. Hadn’t she just been sexually harassing and objectifying her female doctor? The cognitive dissonance was strong with that one.

Jenkins merely shrugged, grabbed hold of her elbow, and began dragging her out.

“I dunno, Isley. Ya seem a bit defensive. Time to go.” 

  * _Misandrist. Joker is an exception. Are there any others?_



“I’ll be seeing you again tomorrow, Pamela. After that, you’ll be subjected to a session every other day until I see some improvement.”

Ivy smirked, and blew Dr. Quinzel a kiss.

“O contraire, Daffodil. I’m looking _forward_ to it. I think _you_ are, too. Until tomorrow.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Jester" plant in question: http://suttons.s3.amazonaws.com/p/FLSPHO29652_3.jpg


	3. Chapter 3

_Thirty…Twenty-nine…Twenty-eight…_

Ivy smirked to herself as she was pulled down the long hallway by her elbow towards the decontamination chamber. She’d timed her distraction perfectly. Jenkins wasn’t too bright, but for some inexplicable reason, she’d expected better of Dr. Quinzel.

This wasn’t nearly the challenge she’d hoped for. Ivy was bored already.

_Twenty…Nineteen…Eighteen…_

Ivy had glanced at the ancient analog clock behind Dr. Quinzel’s head whenever she looked away, which hadn’t been often. The clock was exactly 3 minutes and 27.64 seconds faster than the digital clock in the state-of-the-art chamber. A semblance of her power always returned approximately 19 hours, 24 minutes, and 46 seconds after she’d been expelled from the decontamination chamber.

It seemed the doctors in the asylum hadn’t been nearly as diligent with their timing as Ivy had. She supposed they had other things on their mind. Other patients, and lives outside the barren landscape of this poor excuse for a prison (let alone a containment facility for meta-humans). Typical men, always underestimating the few women unfortunate enough to be trapped here. They’d pay for their lack of consideration soon enough.

Ivy’s smirk grew, and appeared all the more malicious.  

_Ten...Nine…Eight…_

The cold metal door that had been painted an unassuming white was mere paces before her. Ivy watched as Jenkins’ jaw tightened. In Arkham, you always had to be prepared for a fight.

She almost felt bad for him.

No, she didn’t.

_Three…Two…_

Jenkins diverted his attention from Ivy’s face for a split second as he reached for the handle. Ivy felt a surge rush through her extremities. She knew it wouldn’t last long, but she felt like herself again. The cold blood was rushing through her system, delivering toxins that would kill anyone and anything else.

To her, it felt like freedom.

Ivy hit Jenkins with a blast of as many pheromones as she could muster. She watched with a savage smile as his face went slack. His hand fell from the handle and came to rest at his side.

Ivy fluttered her eyelashes, and posed seductively as he turned toward her, wanton bliss etched into his chiseled features.

“Jenkins, honey, would you like to give me a kiss?”

He took on a face-splitting grin, and leaned down immediately. He was met with a pale green hand planted firmly on his chest.

“Not so fast, snapdragon. First, you have to do something for me.”

Jenkins shot up to his full height, and gave her a serious salute.

“Anything for you, Ivy. I’d do anything.”

“Do you remember my new psychiatrist, Dr. Quinzel? Blonde, blue eyes, about my height?”

Jenkins tilted his head dreamily as he tried to sort through the fog to retrieve the memory.

“Yes, love. I remember.”

Ivy was impressed. The man usually had the attention span of a squirrel who had just laid eyes on a particularly plump acorn.

“Well, here’s what I want you to do...

She crooked a finger, and like a well-trained mutt, Jenkins bowed down to her level. Ivy whispered conspiratorially in his ear, and he couldn’t have been happier.

Suddenly, his mouth thinned into a line, and he lowered his brows.

“But…love, that’s….”

Ivy allowed her face to fall, and blinked at him disbelievingly.

“You do love me, don’t you, snapdragon?”

Jenkins balked, and nearly shouted at her.

“Yes! Yes! I love you, Ivy! I’ll do it! I’ll do anything for you, Ivy!”

Ivy placed a hand over his mouth, making sure to dial back the toxins. She glanced around the deserted hallway, and glared warningly at the nearby cells. The few onlookers quickly looked away, pretending to busy themselves with other tasks. It was a bad idea to earn a spot on Poison Ivy’s shit list.

“Hush, baby. I trust you’ll complete this task as soon as _humanly_ possible,” Ivy spat “humanly” with as much venom as possible.

She knew the pheromones would wear off before long. She just hoped they would last long enough.

Jenkins nodded affably, completely oblivious to her derogatory tone. Ivy removed her hand.

“Now, would you be a dear and open the door for me?”

Jenkins grinned, and ripped open the door.

“Run along, snapdragon. Your shift will be over soon.”

Ivy crossed the threshold, and stepped deftly into the chamber. The door slammed shut behind her. She removed her uniform, and three doctors in zero-pressure suits crept toward the discarded garment, grasped it with metal tongs, and disappeared into the mist. It was impossible to see through the solution of liquids and gasses meant to neutralize the deadliest elements of her physiology. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the substances dance over her skin, draining her of life and livelihood.

Ivy’s mind fixated on bright, expressive blue eyes as she went through the motions of the tiresome procedure. Ivy had watched them change drastically with each emotion as Harleen recounted the ordeal with her late boyfriend. Those changes were magnified further by the large, rotund glasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose.  No matter how much the flower tried to harden her features, those eyes always gave her away.  

There was a reason Ivy was viewed as frosty and cold-hearted, despite being a veritable nature goddess and a lover of tropical climes. She made sure to keep her hand surrounded by a forest of corpse flowers, as her Sunshine lovingly put it. And she always had a good hand.

There was a reason she’d handily outsmarted Batman on more than one occasion.

Harleen, on the other hand, had no such barrier. Her emotions bled profusely through her skin, conveyed automatically through every movement, through every expression, bared for all the world to see. It was almost overwhelming.

If you show your hand to all the players, there’s no way you can win. After that session, Ivy knew for sure. She wouldn’t survive here.

Ivy would see to it she wouldn’t have to try.

XX

Joker’s manic eyes gleamed in the night as he took in his Jester’s prone, sleeping form. She always rose with the sunrise, and she _only_ rose because of him. That’s the way it was. That’s the way it always would be. Until his dying day; a dying day she’d willingly share.

He was her property, and he had his sights on expanding his turf. He had all the tools at his disposal. His soon-to-be Harley Quinn had a very pliable mind. He could just tell. Her wide eyes, honest expressions, and immediate openness to his suggestions. The way she could barely contain her nervous excitement, smiling uncontrollably at his jokes. She had not a single line of defense.

What’s more, there was something lurking just behind that thin professional veneer that screamed for release. He just _knew_ she was as unrestrained and chaotic as he was. He didn’t think anyone else could see it. As usual, everyone else was as blind as the _Bat_.

Joker giggled to himself.

This was too easy. He’d had a new henchwoman hand-delivered to his doorstep. He’d managed to ensnare Pammy, and she was one of the most controlled people he’d ever laid eyes on. Well, at least, she _used_ to be. Joker tended to have a…stimulating effect on people.

Speaking of stimulating- he could always tell when his Jester was _faking_ pretending to be attracted to someone. Well, “always” wasn’t the right word. He’d have killed anyone else she’d been interested in, but she hadn’t been. Not until now. Luckily for Harley Quinn, rose bud had chosen someone _he_ was also interested in. She had good taste, but he already knew that.

It’s not as though the cute little treat was a threat. No one could ever replace him. And no one, whether in their right mind or not, would dare steal from him. He could _snuff out_ that connection in an instant, if need be. His Jester never disobeyed his orders.

Besides, he had already decided to let Pammy work her magic. She was quite good at what she did, and it was oh-so-obvious that his harlequin wasn’t exactly on the _straight and narrow_.

He chuckled, disturbing a nearby orderly, who scowled at him. Joker waved, and adopted a shit-eating grin. He folded his hands behind him, and turned to face the back wall of his cell.

The beginnings of a harem swam before his eyes, and his menacing grin widened. His Jester would trap their easy prey, and he’d deliver the finishing blow. He’d acquire a harlequin, and as jealous and tempestuous as Pammy could be, this is one time she wouldn’t complain.

He was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was shorter, as I've got a lot going on this week. More Harlivy goodness to come soon. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

“..We’re ACROMEGLIAAAACCCSSS!”

Harley finished the last few bars of the song with a twirl despite the wet bathtub, throwing caution to the wind. She turned the knobs on the shower wall to the “off” position, and stepped out into the misty bathroom. It seemed she’d forgotten to turn the fan on again. Oh well.

Harley giggled, bounced over to the bathroom mirror, and drew a little happy face in the condensation. Before long, the mirror was covered over in silly sketches. There was even one of Catwoman being chased by a puppy. Well, that’s what the two lopsided stick figures were _supposed_ to be, at least.

With a dramatic _swipe_ of her hand, Harley cleared her makeshift etch-a-sketch so she could peer at herself in the mirror.

“Hey there, good lookin’. Do ya live anywhere around these parts?”

The image in the mirror stuck its tongue out at her, crossed its arms, and walked away haughtily.

“Fine, play hard ta get. Won’t do ya any good in the long run!”

The image glanced at her over its shoulder, and barked out a laugh. Harley blew a raspberry, and walked away to procure a towel. Wherever a towel may be at this hour…

Harley had just finished putting her hair in a towel burrito when she heard a knock at the door to her apartment.

“One sec!”

As she hurriedly pulled on her work clothes, she heard the knock a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. Then—

_Jeez! Why is everyone so impatient?_

When she was (finally) ready, Harley stomped over to the door, scowling. When she reached her destination, she adopted a pleasant expression, and turned the knob gently. 

A rather disgruntled, tired looking woman in her mid-forties was standing, shoulders slumped, in the hallway. Nevertheless, she gave Harley a genuine smile.

“Hey, Harley. Wouldja mind turning down yer music? See, it’s a school day, and my kid’s got a test, and—

“Sure thing, Margaret. Say no more. Tell Johnny I said hi!”

Harley waved jubilantly. She waited until Margaret was out of view before slamming the door shut so hard it practically vibrated.

“It’s _always somethin_ ’ with that one! Besides, it ain’t really even a song. It’s the intro to a cartoon! She’s got a kid, she should know that…”

Harley sighed, and shrugged.

“Eh, perhaps I’m bein’ too hard on ‘er. I heard her kid’s a real pain in the tuchus. Speaking of _real pains_ and _tuchuses…_ ”

Dr. Quinzel had studied Pamela’s extensive file all afternoon and evening. She’d fallen asleep on top of one of Dr. Isley’s studies on transgenic hybrids. Batman had attached a note declaring its relevancy to Pamela’s own physiology.

Dr. Quinzel hadn’t found it particularly challenging. It was late, she was tired, and Pamela’s writing was just so…well… _pretentious._ Her superiority complex was apparently so severe, you couldn’t be safe even on paper. Dr. Quinzel would have loved to see the look on Pamela’s face if she’d heard her doctor had _drooled_ on her beloved studies.

Dr. Quinzel strode over to the small flat-screen on the wall of her living room, and studied her reflection for a moment. She narrowed her eyes, and pointed at herself seriously.

“A’right, Harley, it’s time ta get to work.”

She concentrated, and forced the accent out of her voice.

“Who’s ready to show _Pamela_ who’s boss!”

Dr. Quinzel grinned, and raised her hand up high. She brought it back down, and shot her TV with finger guns. Then, she ran for the front door, grabbing her keys and briefcase off the counter as she went.

XX

Dr. Quinzel hummed merrily as she approached her office. With a running start, she vaulted over her desk and back flipped into her chair.

She was hit with a faint flowery scent before she could register what was in front of her face.

A pot full of daffodils and chrysanthemums sat before her, with a sticky note attached to the side. The lettering was written in a neat cursive. 

 “ _I cannot hope to compare thee to a summer’s day, for thou art too radiant”_

Dr. Quinzel tried to fight the blush in her cheeks as she stared dumbly at the note.

_How did she do this?_

After a few seconds, she snatched the pot up, and stormed down the corridor towards her destination.

XX

 

Ivy heard heavy footsteps approach, and stretched languorously on her mattress. The daffodil on the small table by her bedside squealed excitedly.

_Mother! Mother! The nice lady is back, and she brought me some new friends!_

Ivy smiled at the daffodil.

_Patience, little one. I hear them. They’ll be with us soon enough._

Ivy closed her eyes and folded her hands behind her head contentedly. This was perfect. Exactly the reaction she’d hoped for. Sunshine was still asleep, which was just as well. As much as she loved him, she surmised he wouldn’t be much help in this particular situation.

She cringed slightly when she felt the fear in the flowers as their home was smashed roughly against the reinforced plexiglass.

“Plagiarizing Shakespeare now, are we? And badly, might I add. Care to explain how these got in my office?”

Ivy opened one eye, and smirked coyly.

“Good morning, Daffodil. How nice of you to drop by.”

Ivy watched as her opponent narrowed her eyes in what she guessed was supposed to be a menacing gesture.

_She thinks she has power here. How cute._

“I’m serious, Pamela.”

Ivy blinked in mock surprise.

“So am I.”

“I mean it, Pamela. I think the guards would be very interested to hear you’ve been out of your cell.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow.

“The flowers are wonderful, Daffodil, but I have no clue on Gaia’s Green Earth what you’re talking about.”

Ivy gracefully ascended from her bed, and smiled at the irate blond.

“Those aren’t for me, are they? Why, Harleen, you shouldn’t have.”

The young doctor lowered the pot to rest at her side, and sighed.

“No, Pamela. _You_ shouldn’t have.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel, and Ivy listened as she marched resolutely to the end of the hall.

“ _Mother? Where’s she going with my new friends?”_

Ivy balked when she came back into view. She had wheeled over a yellow janitorial trash bin and raised the pot over it. She glared pointedly at Ivy.

Ivy propelled herself forward.

“Wait! Don’t—

She released the pot, and Ivy shivered in horror as it hit the bottom.

The flower by her bedside cried out.

“ _Mother, why did the nice lady do something so mean?”_

Ivy stared silently as Dr. Quinzel exited the hallway, taking the yellow monstrosity along with her.

_“Mother?”_

_“She’s just…upset right now, I suppose. I…I didn’t think they’d be in any danger…”_

The daffodil drooped. Ivy could feel the sadness radiating from its petals.  

“ _It’s okay, mother. She—_

Ivy felt a familiar rage burn up from her gullet.

_“No, it’s not.”_

XX

Dr. Quinzel grinned to herself as she withdrew the pot from the janitor’s bin. The bin was filled with old pillows and blankets that the asylum had finally deigned dingy enough to throw out. She placed it gingerly on the desk, and patted the tops of the flowers kindly. She bent down to their level.

“Now, please try not to say anything _too_ terrible about me. I’d rather not piss her off any more than I already have. I didn’t actually harm you, did I? I don’t mean her any harm, either. Might not seem like it, but everything I did was for her benefit. You’ll see if you give me a chance.”

The flowers swayed almost imperceptibly towards her. Dr. Quinzel supposed the room must be a little drafty. She straightened when she heard a knock at the door.

“Dr. Quinzel? This one’s been more difficult than a sack of cats. I advise you to stay back. We’re gonna carry her in now.”

_Carry?_

Sure enough, four large guards carried Pamela inside the room. She appeared to be unconscious. One guard had taken up position at each limb. Three of them had face shields that were nearly shattered, and one’s Kevlar vest was in tatters.

Silently, they secured Pamela to the couch, and filed out of the room. The last one turned back, and addressed Dr. Quinzel.

“She knocked out three of us before we got her under control. One of ‘em had ta go through decontamination. We were the lucky ones. Long story short, she’s no longer allowed to have a watering can in her cell. The flower child’s havin’ a bad day, that’s for sure.”

He saw the genuine look of concern on Dr. Quinzel’s face as she looked Ivy over, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Heals quickly, that one. She’ll be up in a few minutes, most likely. No need ta worry. It’s _us_ you should be worried about.” With that, he exited, cringing as his shoulder bumped into the door.

Dr. Quinzel knew that, of course. Pamela’s physical attributes were all outlined quite clearly in Batman’s report. She began mentally running through her script for the session, but she didn’t have wait long before she heard a small groan. Dr. Quinzel looked up, and was met with a rather bedraggled, but still unbelievably gorgeous, woman. She was rubbing her forehead, and her eyes were still closed.

“I will _remember_ this, Carl…”

Dr. Quinzel cleared her throat, and Ivy’s eyes shot open. She turned towards the sound, and blinked at the pot of flowers.

“You…they’re…”

“I didn’t harm them, Pamela. Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to injure plants with _you_ nearby? You shouldn’t underestimate others so readily.”

Ivy sat up, regaining her decorum. Her mouth thinned into a line, and she stared blankly at Dr. Quinzel.

“One of the guards…Carl, presumably, told me you had quite an interesting journey here. Care to comment?”

No response.

“Pamela, I can’t do anything for you if you won’t talk to me.”

No response.

Dr. Quinzel picked up her clipboard, and pretended to jot down a note. She put the clipboard back in her lap, and folded her hands on her desk.

“Alright, have it your way.”

Half an hour went by before _someone_ finally spoke.

_“I’m soooo boooorrrreeddd! Doc, ain’t this boring? LET’S DO SOMETHING. CMONCMONCMONCMONCMON—_

_“Harley, this is a standoff. Surely, you know that? It’ll show weakness if we speak first. We have to focus.”_

_“Yeah, yeah, whateva. I DID focus! But ya hafta understand, I’m SICK of focusin’! Time for somethin’ fun an’ spontaneous! Lissen, I think I’ve got a way ta strong arm her that’s way more interestin’! You’re sure lucky I’m here ta spice up yer life, doc!”_

_“You’re not going to go this time, are you?”_

_“NOPE! This environment ain’t stimulating enough fer me. B to the O-R-I-N-G.”_

_“Fine. We’ll have it YOUR way, then. If you screw this up for me, Harley, I swear—_

_“WAHOO! I won’t letcha down, doc! Now, here’s whatcha do…”_

Dr. Quinzel licked her dry lips, and halfheartedly broke the silence.

“You know, Pamela, I don’t believe you suffer from hallucinations. I think you actually _can_ communicate with plant life, as your physiology would indicate. So, I’m curious, what does this pot of flowers think of _me_?”

Ivy looked mildly surprised. Nevertheless, her response came out as a derisive laugh.

“They think you’re kind of a bitch, Harleen.”

Dr. Quinzel smiled grimly.

“And what do _you_ think, Pamela?”

Ivy resumed her silence, winked, and smirked mischievously at the blonde, as if to say, “ _You KNOW what I’m thinking.”_  

Dr. Quinzel kept her expression placid, and waited a full minute before continuing. Well, that was her plan, but it ended up being fifteen seconds. Harley found the quiet unnerving.   

“Well, since you won’t tell me what you think, I’ll be forced to draw my own conclusions.”

Ivy stared expectantly.

“You think this is a game, Pamela, but it’s not. If I have to coax every last morsel of information out of you, I might as well not waste my time. If you don’t start pulling your weight in these conversations, I’m afraid I can’t help you. You know what else? I think you don’t _want_ to lose me as your psychiatrist. You think of yourself as a rather matronly figure, right? I read about how you were willing to sacrifice yourself for those orphans. They were every bit as innocent and helpless as your plants, were they not?”

Ivy narrowed her eyes.

Dr. Quinzel chuckled.

“So, you do care, after all? I was just spit-balling there, but it looks like you’ve revealed more than you intended. Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it, Pamela?”

Ivy moved as if to cross her arms, realized she couldn’t, and sat back on the couch in a huff.

Dr. Quinzel smiled triumphantly.

“Thought so. I’ll have you know, Pamela, that I am not a child. Nor am I some flower to be cultivated. I don’t appreciate being treated as such. Since your record suggests you’re clearly not a child, either, I’ll level with you. You’re just a stepping stone on my way to the top. The satisfaction I get from helping you is an added bonus. I want to help you, I truly do. However, if you can’t get me where I need to go, there’s no point in continuing this petulant charade. Relationships are a two-way street, Pamela. Every good relationship is built on a solid foundation of trust and mutual benefit.”

At that, Ivy adopted a dreamy expression, and placed her head in her hand.

“Are you saying you want a _relationship_ with me, Daffodil?”

Dr. Quinzel smiled warmly.

“Of course I do.”

“Sorry, sweet pea, but I’m already taken.”

Ivy raised her head, and placed a thoughtful finger on her chin, keeping mesmerizing green eyes on the doctor.

“Although, I suppose what Sunshine doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

Ivy crooked her finger at the blonde.

“Why don’t you come here, baby, and we can—

 Dr. Quinzel shook her head vehemently.

“You’re still not getting this, Pamela. I want a relationship with you, but not in the way you think. I’ll give you until our next session to decide. If you come in here spouting the same superficial drivel as before, I’ll take that to mean you’ve declined my offer.”

Ivy rolled her eyes.

“I know _exactly_ what you want, Daffodil, and it’s exactly what I think. We both know it’s only a matter of time. No matter how many times you try to leave, you’ll always come crawling back. No man or woman alive can resist me. You’re no exception.”

Dr. Quinzel raised an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, Pamela. Batman has resisted you on multiple occasions, and he’s not only a human, but a _man_. Are you willing to take the risk?”

Ivy shrugged.

“ _Batman_ always comes back, too.”

Dr. Quinzel sighed, and glanced at the clock.

“48 hours, Pamela. This concludes our session.”

Dr. Quinzel pressed the red intercom button on the desk.

“Jenkins? It’s time to hose Pamela down again.”

Ivy frowned, and glared at the door. A moment later, Jenkins burst through. He grinned widely at Ivy’s expression.

“Looks like you kids had fun! Alright, daycare’s over.”

Suddenly, he clutched his head.

“Urgh, worst hangover _ever_ ,” he mumbled.

Ivy smiled slightly. Dr. Quinzel took note.

_“Hey, doc, she REALLY hates that guy! More than usual, I mean! Howsa’bout you let me knock her down a peg? Trust me, that’s a broad who needs ta learn some manners!”_

_“Will you leave me alone for a full hour if I do?”_

_“Cross my heart and hope NOT to die! Teehee!”_  

“Jenkins, Pamela is _much_ older than me. Much older than you, in fact.”

Jenkins guffawed loudly, drawing the brief attention of two nervous guards just outside the door.

“Cougartown, it is, then! Hah! C’mon then, kitty cat.” 

Ivy’s head snapped back around to the blonde. It seemed she was still actively trying to murder Dr. Quinzel with her gaze. Jenkins disengaged the restraints, and peeled her from the couch.

“Oh! Before you go, Jenkins, I’d like to add these to Pamela’s collection,” Dr. Quinzel gestured at the pot of yellow flowers.

Jenkins wore a puzzled look.

“Ya sure, doc? She’s hard enough to deal with on her _own_ , if you know what I—

“Yes. Doctor’s orders.”

Jenkins shrugged exasperatedly.

“A’right, I just hope it ain’t _my_ funeral,” he muttered under his breath.

Dr. Quinzel addressed Ivy, who wore a calculating expression.

“This is what _you_ get out of this, if you decide to cooperate. I’ll also extend your outdoor privileges. Be advised, if you decide to terminate this arrangement, I’ll make sure your next doctor knows precisely how _un_ cooperative you have been. You’ll lose it all. See, I know _exactly_ what you want, Pamela. It’s exactly what I think. Until next time.”

Ivy instantly brightened, and gave Dr. Quinzel a little wave as she sauntered away, swinging her hips seductively. Dr. Quinzel quickly glanced down at her clipboard, pretending to reread the notes from the first session.

Ivy smiled pleasantly as she was led back to her cell after decontamination. Joker waved at her, and she grinned excitedly.

“How’d it go, toots? I hope our darling little sweet tart was more _sweet_ than _tart_!”

Once Ivy was fully enclosed in her cell, and the guards had disappeared, she gestured to the new pot joining the old daffodil by her bedside.

“Does this answer your question?”

Joker beamed, then cackled.

“Ah! So, she _returned_ your thoughtful gift? Playing hard to get, eh? Won’t do her any good in the long run! No one can resist my Jester. Isn’t that right, poo?”

Ivy’s own smile mirrored his.

“You’d know as well as anyone else.”

“Well, my dear, I happen to know you’ve got quite the green thumb, and she’ll be under it soon. Heh! The harlequin will probably be happy about it, too. You know how I love to bring a smile to peoples’ faces!”

“Mm, you never fail to light up my day, Sunshine.”

Ivy gazed at him lovingly for hours, as he told inane joke after insane joke, some at her expense. She laughed no matter what, and made sure to participate when he heckled passing personnel. He never looked better than when he was in his element. He could make anything brilliant, but Ivy felt he always needed a bigger stage. Keeping him cooped up _here_ , where no one could appreciate his genius? That was the _real_ crime. Much like the sun itself, they wouldn’t be able to keep him contained forever. He’d filter through the cracks and chinks, and he’d bring his joy to world.

She’d make it happen.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to TaylorMade, who did a wonderful job being my beta for this chapter. 
> 
> On a separate note:
> 
> Poison Ivy + The Joker= violence. I've updated the archive warnings accordingly.

_The stately black-painted mansion loomed ominously up ahead, as Dr. Isley gazed out of the clown car’s window. They parked right in the middle of the long driveway, and even though it was before dawn, she knew the car must be visible to anyone who might be awake._

_Dr. Isley studied the sharp outline of her Sunshine’s face in the lightening darkness of the early morning. He shut off the car, and pulled something out of his left pocket. He placed it in her hand. It was a small vial, containing a dark green liquid._

_“Here you are, toots! I’ve concocted something special to enhance your…assets. Drink up!”_

_Dr. Isley uncorked the vial without hesitation. She brought it to her lips, and swallowed the contents in one big gulp. The chemicals burned slightly as they went down. She began to feel nervous, but was pleasantly surprised when she felt a warmth like a shot of adrenaline race through her body._

_Dr. Isley leaned forward, and kissed her Sunshine on the forehead. He grinned proudly, his teeth gleaming despite the lack of light._

_“Ah, if only Punch showed this much gratitude…”_

_Joker placed a thoughtful finger on his chin._

_“Er…on second thought, I don’t think that would be pleasant for anyone.”_

_Dr. Isley smiled, opened the door, and hopped out. She was feeling more powerful than she had in months. Scratch that, more powerful than she had in years. No…she was feeling more powerful than she ever had. She moved around to the driver’s side, and opened the door. She held out her hand to her Sunshine._

_“Come, darling. We shall paint the morning red and green.”_

_“Ooo! Two out of three of my very favorite colors!”_

_He took her hand, and they stomped up the driveway and ornate staircase to the door. Joker paused, and raised his fist to knock on the door demurely._

_At that moment, Mrs. Isley ripped open the door.  Joker opened his fist, and waved._

_“Have you any idea what hour it is? You solicitors, always intruding on—_

_Joker shoved her backwards into the entryway. He and Pamela followed, and he shut the door behind them. Mrs. Isley fell, hitting the marble floor with a soft thud._

_The older woman squinted up at the foreign figures. Her eyes widened when she finally realized who was standing in front of her._

_“Pamela! W-what are you doing here? Wh-who is that h-horrible man?!”_

_Mrs. Isley narrowed her eyes judgmentally._

_“Wait..no..tell me that’s not who I think it is! How dare you bring that ruffian into our home!”_

_Pamela crossed her arms, and smiled sadly down at her mother. Her whisper was barely audible, yet somehow carried throughout the cavernous entryway._

_“It’s nice to see you too, mother. I tried to announce my visit ahead of time, but you never returned my calls.”_

_Mrs. Isley sighed, and shook her head._

_“So, what? You just decided to show up unannounced? I thought I taught you to behave better than this, Pamela. It seems I was mistaken.”_

_Pamela could feel the anger begin to grow in the pit of her stomach, and fought futilely to bite back the words threatening to spill forth. She’d wanted this confrontation to be quick and dispassionate. She’d wanted to free herself of her former life, to painlessly dig out her roots and replant herself in more fertile ground. It was not to be. All her careful planning burned up in the heat of the moment._

_Pamela’s voice rose slightly, coming out as a strangled croak._

_“Where…where were you?”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_Pamela’s voice rose steadily, growing less shaky with each word. She clenched and unclenched her first, trying to maintain what little control she still possessed._

_“Where were you when I was in the hospital for all those months? Why didn’t you return any of my letters and calls? Where were you when I was missing? Why didn’t you try to find me? Did you even notice I was gone? **WHERE WERE YOU?!?”**_

_Mrs. Isley turned her nose up haughtily._

_“I was living my life. You aren’t a little girl anymore, Pamela. You can take care of yourself. If something in your life went awry, you have only yourself to blame. Why should I clean up your mess? Honestly, the nerve.”_

_Mrs. Isley watched as Pamela’s face went blank. A moment passed in silence, as she stared at her mother disbelievingly. A moment later, a savage smile crept across her features. The morning sun peeked over the horizon, and shed enough light on the scene for Mrs. Isley to make out Pamela’s new skin tone. Green. She glanced at Pamela’s companion, and saw an identical smile plastered over his pale skin. She would see that green skin and those vicious smiles in her dying moments, played over and over again in her head._

_Mrs. Isley’s face twisted in disgust, and she opened her mouth to chastise…whoever this was. Certainly not the modest, prim, and proper daughter she’d raised. What an utter disappointment Pamela had turned out to be._

_Pamela lifted her arm, shaking with rage. The ferns adorning the otherwise bland walls leapt to her aid, gagging Mrs. Isley and holding her limbs fast to the floor. Her mother struggled fruitlessly against the leafy bonds, her screams muffled by the makeshift gag. With a flick of her wrist, the ferns dutifully dragged Mrs. Isley out the back door._

_Once Mrs. Isley was out of view, Joker giggled to himself._

_“I don’t know about you, sweetcheeks, but I’m ready to have some fun! What say we show mommy and daddy dearest a good time? After all, it’s what they deserve for being such stellar parents! Say, I’ll even go fetch your pops for you right now!”_

_Pamela growled at no one in particular, then turned to her Sunshine. She smiled adoringly._

_“That would be divine, sweet pea. Please bring him out the back door, and place him on the grass.”_

_Joker saluted, and skipped up the stairs, whistling a merry tune._

_Pamela watched him go. The second his purple coattails disappeared, her face contorted into a snarl. She bolted out the back door after her mother, who was now snugly cocooned up to her neck within the tall grass. Pamela glared down at her, fighting the sudden urge to stomp her face in. That was too quick an end; far more than her mother deserved._

_Her Sunshine appeared a moment later, her father slung effortlessly over his shoulder. He had bound his hands and feet together with duct tape, and stuffed a green rag with a smile painted on it in his mouth. Joker threw him unceremoniously on the ground next to her mother. He groaned around the gag, dizzy from the milder form of Joker gas in his system._

_“You’re the ringmaster of this little show, poo. What next?”_

_Pamela snarled like a rabid animal._

_“This.”_

_Pamela pointed at her mother’s garden of ivies, only a few feet away. They crept slowly towards the two prone forms. She smiled as she saw her mother’s defiant eyes widen in abject terror. She directed the vines first at her father. She commanded the grass to turn her mother to face him. When she tried to close her eyes to the scene before her, the blades of grass wrenched her eyelids open, holding them there._

_The ivies wrapped slowly around her father’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. He began to choke, gasping out unintelligible words around his gag. Pamela held a hand out to her Sunshine, and he placed a dagger gingerly in her palm. She bent down, and the ivies parted slightly to allow entry. She stared her mother in the eyes as she stabbed downward, and drug the dagger slowly across her father’s throat. Pamela smiled when she saw the light leave her father’s eyes, an image reflected in the horrified pupils of her mother’s._

_Pamela rose gracefully, then bent down to peer at her mother. She dragged the flat edge of the bloody dagger down her right cheek. Her mother glared in fear and anger, attempting uselessly to yell around the wealth of plants._

_Pamela rose again, and urged her plants onward._

_A surge of ivies encircled her mother, and squeezed tight. The blades of grass cut into her skin savagely, sawing her body apart inch by inch._

_The cracking of bones broke through the deathly silence. Blood seeped from between the blades of grass, pooling steadily on the ground. Poison Ivy watched with glee as her mother’s eyes rolled back in her head, blood gurgling out of her mouth around the gag. A minute later, her strangled cries abated. Her mangled, misshapen form fell still._

_Poison Ivy stepped forward, and stomped her face in._

_The green woman turned, and sauntered through the bloody ground, barefoot, leaving red prints behind her. She walked towards her Sunshine with a big smile on her face._

_When she reached him, Joker took her in his arms, and lifted her up. He spun her around and around. She threw back her head and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. He laughed with her, the musical and maniacal undertones mixing in the fresh air._

_Suddenly, Joker threw her on the ground. Ivy looked up at him in surprise. Her surprise turned to shock as she felt the first blow. A kick to her abdomen. Then the second. A fist to her face. Then the third. Then the fourth. Then—_

_Joker merely continued laughing as he administered the beating._

_“Y’know what I always say, toots! No pain, no gain!”_

_Adoration and admiration fought outrage and betrayal for control inside Ivy’s mind. The latter won out, as it always did. She pushed herself up onto her knees with difficulty amidst the barrage. She would now defy the very sun itself._

_Thick ivy vines wound around Joker’s body, quickly pinning his arms to his sides and squeezing his legs together. He was hoisted easily into the air. He began to bleed around his bonds as the vines grew large, sharp thorns. He winced._

_Poison Ivy glared at him coldly. She coughed out a reprisal from her aching lungs- a threat, and a promise._

_“I don’t care who you are, or what you’ve done for me. I don’t care if you’re the sun itself. If you or anyone else EVER tries something like that again, I will kill the offender. No exceptions.”_

_Joker simply giggled, and shrugged._

_“Alright, alright, you got me! I won’t. It’s no fun anyway, ‘cause I can’t leave my trademark mark! In fact, I suspect no man will ever leave his mark on you again. Looks like you were always destined to be perfect in every way, sweetcheeks!”_

_Poison Ivy beamed at him, the anger tumbling out of her as quickly as it had come. However, the anger was replaced by puzzlement. She released her Sunshine, and meandered over to a small stream behind her parents’ mansion. She peered at her reflection in the water, and saw her surprise mirrored back at her. The last vestiges of her freshly formed black eye were already fading away. She stumbled back…right into Sunshine. He encircled his arms around her, and she looked up at him. He had a huge grin on his face._

_“No matter, you can still be my Jester all the same. What do you say, toots?”_

_Any residual anger towards him faded, a tiny voice pleading for vengeance in the background. She was Jester. His Jester…_

_“Thank you, Sunshine.”_

Dr. Quinzel blinked as Pamela finished her story. As soon as the guards left the room, she had launched into the tale of her first escapade with the Joker. It was very…revealing, and she supposed that was Pamela’s intention.

The redhead was smirking at her from across the room, likely gauging her reaction. Anger at the Joker and surprise that she’d been told this pivotal moment battled for precedence. Dr. Quinzel was struggling to keep the emotion off her face. She cleared her throat, and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“I see that you have chosen to continue this _professional_ relationship. Can you tell me why?”

Ivy shrugged.

“It’s like you said, Daffodil. I don’t want to lose the few privileges I’m allowed. Besides, you’re just so…scrumptious,” Ivy winked.

Dr. Quinzel felt heat creep unbidden into her cheeks once more. She scowled.

“Pamela, I told you to cut the bullshit last time.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow.

“I _am_ being honest, Daffodil. I understand your skepticism. Being as beautiful as I am, I could have anyone I want. Why would I be interested in _you_ , of all people? Surely, I must have _some_ ulterior motive. Right?” Ivy mocked. She gave Dr. Quinzel a shit-eating smirk.

Dr. Quinzel shook her head, and sat stony-faced as she glared silently at Ivy.

_“I’m sick of this! We don’t hafta take this crap from some fucking plant-controlling bitch! Ain’t that just the lamest power eva? Besides, she’s beholden ta that pasty-faced creep! Sure, he’s charming an’ all, but doesn’t she claim ta hate men? She’s jus’ a bundle a’ contradictions! Ooh, hey, doc! That’s good, use that…”_

Suddenly, Dr. Quinzel wore a grin that rivaled the Joker’s. Ivy tilted her head, looking thoroughly confused.

“Pamela, there’s only one person you _can_ have, and that’s the Joker. You cannot have me, or anyone else. You are his. He _owns_ you, and you’re too stupid to see it.”

Ivy’s smirk grew, pleased that she was getting to Dr. Quinzel.

“No, Daffodil, you have the wrong impression. I control _him_ , he does not control _me_. I can have anyone I want, and I think you know that. No one can resist me, not even Sunshine.”

Dr. Quinzel laughed maniacally, long and loud, and Ivy was taken aback.

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Pamela. You like to act tough, you like to act like you’ve changed, but you haven’t. Jester, Ivy, Dr. Isley, you can call yourself whatever you want. The sad truth is, you’re still just Pamela. You’re still that simpering, docile, weak little girl just _begging_ for attention from powerful men.”

Ivy growled, and clenched her fists so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

“I’m Mother Nature’s Chosen Protector. I am a _goddess_ among common men. I’ve _murdered_ people, Harleen. Do you know what that means? It means I can snap your neck without giving it a second thought. You’re nothing to me, and it’s obvious you’re nothing to anyone. You have nothing to lose. That’s why you’re not afraid of me. Anyone with any sense at all would be _terrified_. All you _meatsacks_ are utterly worthless, yet you believe you’re worth more than anything else. You’re no exception.”

Dr. Quinzel continued to guffaw.

“Oh, sweet, innocent Pammy, playing in her mommy’s garden. Uprooted from her sheltered life and placed in the care of the esteemed and doting Dr. Woodrue. Tell me, Pamela, did he make you feel special? Were you _chosen_ to be his useless, disposable toy? I think you liked it, Pamela. Wanted it. That’s why you’re with the Joker. Because you can’t live without the _affection_ , you can’t live without being the willing servant of some _man_ , you can’t live without being _Pamela_ —

“ **PAMELA IS DEAD!”** Ivy roared.

Suddenly, she lunged at Dr. Quinzel, her face a mask of fury. An arm and a leg came free from the couch. Dr. Quinzel shot up from her chair instinctively, her body preparing for a fight she couldn’t possibly win.

At that moment, Jenkins burst in. Ivy landed a good kick to his knee and backfist to his elbow before he knocked her unconscious with a well-placed uppercut, followed by a lightning fast sidekick. He laid her gingerly on the couch, and walked over to the wall. He doubled the strength of the magnetic field tethering her to the couch. Finally, he gestured to Dr. Quinzel.

“We should go before she wakes up. Give her some time to cool off.”

Dr. Quinzel was still staring at her, stunned, her heart hammering in her chest.

“I know she was still half glued ta the chair, but how didya subdue her all by yer lonesome? Pamela weighs 130 at 15% body fat, but she’s three times as strong as an average woman her size and build. Personally, I think that’s an underestimate. She’s fast, too. I’ve seen a few security tapes where she’s throwin’ full grown men around like rag dolls! Yer a big guy, but even assuming ya weigh like 250 lbs, ya still technically ain’t even in her weight class!”

Jenkins blinked. He’d always figured Dr. Quinzel was one of those fancy doctors from out of town, or from the rich section of Gotham. She’d hidden her accent well.   

Dr. Quinzel clapped her hands over her mouth. Jenkins smiled at her kindly, and winked.

“Don’t worry, doc. Yer secret’s safe with me.”

She grinned, and nodded her thanks.

Jenkins rubbed the back of his neck good naturedly, and then cringed as he popped his dislocated elbow back into place.

“Anyway, there’s a reason I’m the only one who’s allowed ta transport her by myself. Most people think it’s just cuz of my size, but I’ve mastered ten different styles of martial arts. I’ve even got training from the big Bat himself,” he said proudly. “I wouldn’t spread that ‘round if I were you, though. The inmates would take it as a challenge. A’right, now we’re even as far as secrets go. I suggest we skedaddle before Isley comes to her senses.”

Dr. Quinzel leaned over to pick up her clipboard from where it had clattered to the floor, and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“There’s something I need to do first.”

Jenkins furrowed his brows at first, and his face tightened as Dr. Quinzel approached the limp green and red figure. However, when he saw what she was about to do, he smiled to himself.

Dr. Quinzel withdrew a pen from the pocket of her white coat, and scrawled a quick note on the paper. A minute later, she unclipped it, and placed it next to Ivy’s right hand on the couch.

Dr. Quinzel straightened, and turned back to Jenkins.

“Lead the way.”

She glanced back at Pamela as Jenkins led her out into the hallway, favoring his right leg. Dr. Quinzel was beginning to feel guilty about the confrontation. She’d lost her temper. All the important questions she’d wanted to ask Pamela had flown right out the window. That interaction was unhelpful, unprofessional, and counterproductive. She wouldn’t allow herself to lose control like that again.

“ _This is all YOUR fault, Harley.”_

_“Wha? That’s not fair, doc! WE did this! We’re the same person! Ya can’t jus’ separate us into different entities. It ain’t workin’ out. I think—_

_“Look, just try to dial it back from…I don’t know, a one thousand to a ten?”_

_“Sure felt good ta knock that self-righteous grinch on her ass though, didn’t it?”_

_“Harley…”_

_“Fine, jeez, whatever!  How d’ya suppose we’re gonna get back in her good graces?”_

_“Leave that to me.”_

Just as Dr. Quinzel was about to turn away, she caught the note being pulled slowly towards the green figure. She smiled.

XX

Ivy groaned as she felt the pounding in her head and bile in her throat. A few seconds later, the room stopped spinning, and she noticed a white piece of paper in front of her. _Someone_ had left her a note. Ivy scowled, and drew the note forward, until she could distinguish individual words. The edges of her vision were still a bit fuzzy. 

_Dear Ivy-_

_I am sorry things got out of hand. My behavior was rash and unprofessional, and I was unnecessarily cruel. Even so, I am not completely at fault. I want you to understand why I am upset. I feel that you regard our sessions, and me in general, as something of a joke. This hurts me, because I take you and our sessions very seriously. I want to help you, Ivy, and I want us to treat each other with respect. I’m not giving up on you. Please work with me._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Quinzel_

After a second quick read-through, Ivy took the note in both hands, and ripped it to shreds.

XX

Dr. Quinzel took a deep breath, and cautiously turned the key in the door to her office. She slowly pushed the door open, turned the light on, and immediately sighed. It was just as she’d feared. There, sitting on her desk, was a large bouquet of several different kinds of flowers, with a sticky note attached to the side of the pot in which they were kept.

She had two options. One: Tell Dr. Leland, and put a stop to Pamela’s rule-breaking. Two: Keep silent, and see how this played out. Dr. Quinzel knew she _should_ choose option one. Harley chose option two.

_“C’mon, doc, we can’t go crying ta mommy every time Red does something we don’t like. Remember whatcha said about being tough, an’ not showing weakness? Let’s see where this goes!”_

_“Harley, you just want this because you mistakenly believe it will be fun.”_

_“Guilty as charged! But, ya know I ain’t wrong._ ”

Dr. Quinzel shook her head, and strode towards the pot. She tore the sticky note off the side, and examined the now familiar calligraphy. The note contained only three words.

_“Language of Flowers_ ”

Dr. Quinzel raised an eyebrow, walked over to her desk chair, and sat down. She took the note, and put it in a desk drawer. She stacked it on top of Pamela’s first note, which for some inexplicable reason, she’d decided to keep. Harley’s cackle echoed in her head.

“ _I know why ya kept it! Doc and Pammy sittin’ in a tree, K I—_

_“Shut up, Harley!”_

Dr. Quinzel slammed the drawer shut so hard the desk shook, and took her laptop out of her briefcase. She tapped her foot impatiently as it booted up, and stuck her tongue out when the usual “update” box popped up at the bottom of the screen. She hurriedly clicked “postpone”, and opened the web browser.

She’d googled “Language of Flowers”, and found out that…well…there was a language of flowers. Each flower carried a different meaning, and sometimes multiple. Dr. Quinzel eyed the pot on her desk suspiciously, and looked up each flower and its meaning.

_Hazel- “Reconcilliation”_

_Raspberry- “Remorse”_

_Rose, Yellow- “Forgive and Forget”_

  _Acacia- “Friendship”_

Dr. Quinzel breathed a sigh of relief. Then, she scrolled down the page a little more.

_Acacia, yellow- “Secret love”_

The blonde narrowed her eyes as Harley’s laugh invaded her thoughts once more.

“ _Oh man, who does Red think she’s kiddin’? Even I can see how unlikely it is that she’d betray her ‘Sunshine’!”_

_“…..”_

_“Not that we ain’t desirable, doc. Plenny’a people like us. Pammy’s just…ha…she doesn’t think we’re too bright, does she?”_

Dr. Quinzel smiled to herself. She unzipped a pocket on her briefcase, and took out a plastic freezer bag. She took one of each flower, enclosed them in the bag, and put them in the drawer next to the notes.

“ _You’re right. She doesn’t. We will use that to our advantage.”_


	6. Chapter 6

Three weeks had passed since the incident. Despite Pamela’s apparent acceptance of Dr. Quinzel’s apology, her conduct in their sessions was certainly less than satisfactory. She either deflected all important questions with her usual diatribe, or stayed completely silent. She always had that irritating smirk plastered on her face, smug as ever, watching Dr. Quinzel with the eyes of a hawk zeroing in on its prey.

The moment Pamela stepped into the room for their next therapy session, Dr. Quinzel realized her mistake. She shouldn’t have told Pamela she wouldn’t give up on her. Now, the meta-human had no reason to answer any of her questions. Pamela now knew that Dr. Quinzel was more invested in the redhead’s wellbeing than in her own career path. The blonde gave away her power, and internally, she was fuming.

Dr. Quinzel had considered threatening to revoke Pamela’s privileges, but that would make her a hypocrite. She’d told Pamela that relationships were built on a solid foundation of trust and mutual benefit, not coercion.  It was unfortunate that Pamela had genius level IQ, because she’d likely remember everything that Dr. Quinzel told her. Regardless, Dr. Quinzel didn’t want to further reinforce the idea that threatening someone was an effective way to advance a relationship- though that ship had most likely already sailed.

Even worse, if she revoked Pamela’s privileges, she’d be taking away the woman’s only interaction with living things that weren’t the Joker. It was very likely Pamela had figured out this was the primary reason her doctor was loathe to deprive her of her plants. Therefore, even if she HAD wanted to go with a bluff threat, it wouldn’t have worked.

_“Damn it, Harley! Damn it, Damn it, Damn it. Will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?”_

_“HEY! Yer the one who wrote the note, doc. This ain’t on me! This time, YER the one that screwed the pooch (the plant?)! Hah!”_

_“We’re the same person, Harley. Aren’t you always reminding me of that?”_

_“Well…yeah, okay, y’got me there. It’s funny how a few ill-advised words can do so much lasting damage, eh?”_

_“No, it’s not.”_

Unbeknownst to Pamela, Dr. Quinzel had discreetly passed by the lunch and rec rooms every day the toxic plant avenger had been allowed to mingle with the other inmates. “Mingle” wasn’t exactly the right word, though. She kept to herself…or the other patients kept to themselves…or both. Wherever she walked, others drew back. It looked as if she were parting seas of people without lifting a finger. However, that certainly didn’t stop them from staring after her. In the recreation area, Pamela sectioned herself off on a beaten up old couch in a far corner of the room, as far away as she could get from the raucous furor created by the other patients. She was usually reading whatever semi-interesting material she could get her hands on, as the asylum was understandably lacking in the botanical journal department. In the cafeteria, she sat alone at a round lunch table; other inmates gave her so wide a berth that all adjoining tables were also empty.  

She was the star at the center of her own solar system. Brilliant, but untouchable. No one dared approach. Dr. Quinzel had heard a story or two about the last person who’d tried. They’d earned several skin grafts and a month’s stay in the hospital.

Dr. Quinzel wasn’t getting anywhere in their sessions. The only real communication she still received from Pamela was the flowers on her desk each day- at most, they conveyed a few ambiguous phrases.

These days, it seemed more and more apparent to Dr. Quinzel that control always gave way to chaos. All her carefully laid plans….destroyed in one fell swoop. Destroyed by a sentence on a piece of paper.

Well, fuck it.

_“Ready to have some fun, Harley?”_

XX

Poison Ivy huffed irritably over the copy of National Geographic from 1981 that she was currently perusing. She’d happened upon a brief article on air plants.

“ _Idiots!_ That’s a _Tillandsia Xerographica_ , not a _Tillandsia Mauryana,_ ”she mumbled aloud, to no one in particular. She pointed accusatorily at the man holding up the plant in the picture, and scowled.

“ _Men_.”

She startled slightly as someone flung themselves down beside her, bouncing her upward on the couch cushion. The magazine fell from her hands.

“Heya, Red! Looks like ya found somethin’ interestin’ ta read!”

Poison Ivy’s eyes glittered dangerously as she plastered a sickly sweet smile on her face. She turned, and regarded the intruder with a regally raised eyebrow. There before her sat a blonde, with hair thrown up in messy ponytails. She was petite, but muscular. Her wide blue eyes and even wider smile were almost alarming. She was wearing the same garish prison orange that they’d tried and failed repeatedly to force Ivy herself into.

“Hardly. These _troglodytes_ don’t know the first thing about plants. Honestly, it’s insulting.”

The young blonde woman leaned her head on her hand, her expression dreamy. She inched imperceptibly closer to the redhead. Ivy crossed her arms over her chest, and narrowed her eyes.

“Aw, they can’t be _that_ bad, Red! At the very least, they entertained ya with their idiocy!”

Poison Ivy sighed, and faced away from the other woman.

“Why are you here? If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave. Now.” Her tone was biting, and final.

She was surprised when she heard a high-pitched giggle emanate from behind her.

“Do ya want me ta leave, or do ya want me ta answer yer question?”

Ivy considered for a moment, before turning back around, and affixing the blonde with a menacing glare.

“Answer first. Then leave.”

“Well…I don’ believe what I heard ‘em say about ya. I bet yer really just a big ol’ softie. I thought I’d come say hi. So, HI!!!!

The blonde waved jubilantly.

“In case ya haven’t noticed, it’s a real sausage fest in here. Us girls gotta stick _together_ ,” the blond waggled her eyebrows playfully, then continued, “Anyways, I ain’t afraid of ya, Red, so nice try. Whatta ya say, are we gal pals?”

Ivy scowled, then her face grew placid, and she shrugged. She found the girl’s innocent outlook slightly endearing. She was more of an annoyance than a threat, anyway. Ivy decided to grant her an admonishment, rather than a bodily wound. Quite a generous response, she thought.  

“No, I’m _not_ going to be your ‘gal pal’. My name is Poison Ivy, and you’re sitting far too close. You _should_ be afraid, and not _just_ of me. With that attitude, you’ll get yourself killed before noon.”

The blonde woman sighed, and reached out to twirl a lock of wavy red hair around her finger. Ivy stared at her hand as it fisted in her hair, too stunned to move. Then, she slapped the hand away. She looked back up at the other woman, fury in her eyes.

“Because you’re clearly new here, I’ll give you _one_ last chance, _meatbag_. That’s more than most will _ever_ get. Leave, before I _rip you in half_ ,” Ivy snarled.

The blonde woman sat up, a sad smile on her face. Ivy balled her fists, readying to launch an attack.

“Don’tcha recognize me, Red?”

Ivy squinted at the other woman for a second, before realization dawned on her face. Her rage faded into shock. Those eyes…how could she have missed it?

_For Gaia’s sake, Isely, pay attention! Harleen is playing you for a fool!_

Ivy gritted her teeth together, a fresh wave of anger rushing forth. She growled low through her barely repressed rage.

“ _What the hell are you doing here, Harleen? You really DO have a death wish. You do realize I could stand up right now, make all these idiots aware of who you REALLY are, and your life would come to a swift end. Right?”_

Dr. Quinzel chuckled.

“If ya really wanted me dead, ya woulda done so already.”

“Don’t be so sure, Harleen.”

 Dr. Quinzel waved her hand dismissively, to the surprise of a flabbergasted Ivy.

“Call me Harley, everyone does. Pleased ta meet’cha.”

Ivy frowned.

“We met a little over a month ago. Surely, you remember?”

“Harley” adopted an exasperated expression. She giggled again.

“Y’know what I mean, Red. It’s nice ta finally talk outside of a formal setting!”

“What’s with the nickname?”

Harley looked away innocently.

“Whatsoever do ya mean, Red?”

Ivy’s face twisted, and she watched as the blond paled slightly. Then, Harley smiled.

“It’s yer hair, silly. I like it. Besides, I think you’ve earned a nickname. Ya got one fer me, don’tcha? It’s only fair.”

Ivy shook her head in disbelief. She leaned back on the couch, facing “Harley”, in what could only be a pin-up model pose. She smirked, and tossed her head back seductively, so that her hair cascaded over her shoulder.

“I’ve _earned_ a nickname, have I? Well, Daffodil, why don’t you come over here and—

Suddenly, Harley grinned excitedly. She leapt into Ivy’s lap, pinning her shoulders down on the couch.

“You don’t hafta tell ME twice!”

Ivy watched, frozen, as Harley’s face got closer and closer. So close she could count the flecks of silver in her baby blues. She felt a soft hand move from her shoulder to trace her jawline. Her lips quirked into a half-smile, despite her attempt to still them. She felt her heart begin to beat faster as Harley trailed her fingers down the side of her neck and across her collarbone. Ivy brought her right hand up to wrap around Harley’s throat. She felt the other woman tense, and then relax once she realized the hand was guiding her forward instead of choking her. A warm hand moved to fist in her lush, wavy locks once again. She felt Harley’s pulse racing beneath her fingers, and she vaguely recognized that her own eyes were starting to close.

_Wait…What are you doing?!?! Stop this!_

Ivy’s free hand shot up from the couch, and covered the mouth that was dangerously close to her own. She saw the darkened blue eyes above her widen in surprise.  

“No. We can’t.”

Harley huffed, and made a move as if to hop off, but leaned down to Ivy’s ear instead.

“ _I thought this was what you wanted, Pamela,”_ she whispered, with unsettling calmness.

“Well, it’s not.”

Dr. Quinzel sat up quickly. Ivy thought she saw hurt flash briefly across her face, but the blonde affected a self-satisfied smile before she could be sure.

Dr. Quinzel jumped off of her suddenly, and stood. She put her hands on her hips in a triumphant pose, which was ruined only by her still-rosy cheeks. Ivy stood as well, glaring.

“I’ve called your bluff, Pamela. You have until tomorrow to come up with a more convincing routine.”

She turned on her heel, and walked fearlessly into the throng of patients littered about the room. Ivy stared after her. It took her a few seconds to realize the whole room was staring back.


End file.
